I'd Never Forget You
by JFACFanfic
Summary: "You spent all your life chasing your dream and when you finally get to live it out, it's gone... just like that. Everything you worked for, gone. Your family isn't the first thing you think of, your friends don't even cross your mind, and your woman is there while you keep pushing her away... I'm not saying you'll remember, but don't give up..." John Cena/Nikki Bella.
1. White Walls

January 6th, 2014... Monday.

Chapter 1: White Walls.

He hit the mat with a jolt. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he pressed his left to where he landed. The crowd roared chanting over and over again as they always did. The smell of sweat and tiredness filled the air that surrounded his body. He just wanted to stay laying there without putting anymore effort. He inhaled and exhaled ruggedly as his chest expanded and lowered that could be seen easily since he lay on his side.

He'd been overbooked in his schedule for a while now since a couple months back. He had great love and would maybe even die in the business becoming cremated into a legacy. He worked hard to get to where he was and constantly proved that he got there first and was the last to leave. Larger than life was an exaggeration since nothing was larger than what his life was. Before every match, he'd get pumped up in excitement while his heart would beat rapidly. Then his music would hit filling up whatever event or arena instantly in reaction.

Soon he'd be in the ring and lift the microphone to his mouth having his deep voice rumble and expand throughout the audience sometimes beyond the arena if the roof opened. The unpredictableness is what he just could never get over no matter how many times he tried. After about the first three years, he figured he never would and would just have to put up with it, not that it was hard to do. Then he'd orchestrate a match backstage with his fellow "opponent" before showing the world either live or taped. Even though some people could never understand, wrestling was an art that few could live. It was just that lately, everything really had done a number on him.

Going back, John agreed to a storyline that involved him getting beat up a lot on multiple shows. Of course it was Vince's idea to do so; the plan was to bring down the powerhouse until he could show the world that he just would not stop until he got back. It relied on the showmanship of invincibility and raw toughness surely the perfect match for John. Each event it'd be a different superstar getting his hands on him and brutally hurting him. He'd been thrown into steel steps, put through tables, hit by chairs, brass knuckles, screwed over by referees, double-teamed, dropped off of ladders, and kicked off turnbuckles so many times that he was developing an actual bruise on his back. Selling at event after event, he showed that each blow to his character was even more painful than the last.

He appeared on RAW, Smackdown, Main Event, PPV's, interviews, and press conferences only to be beaten down to a pulp. That wasn't the problem, however. The real problem had to do with the realness; he got along great with his coworkers and made sure to never hurt them, but some were a bit stiff and constantly proved how dangerous his job really was. There were times he wanted to tell the referee to throw in the towel and end the match, but as stubborn as he was, he'd never admit that he was hurt. He'd find an ounce of power left and keep on going playing off whatever injury he had. At home he'd sink into a tub of ice to ease whatever pain was left and sleep only a couple of hours.

It was getting a bit out useless to even go to the gym since he'd have constant multiple workouts during the day and night. Whatever the matter, he had no choice but to keep pushing on himself hoping that no one would notice how bad of shape he was physically and mentally. Panting, he rolled from his side onto his stomach and brought his hands up on the mat at either side of his chest. He pushed up with that ounce he had left and stood to his feet as the people yelled in mixed reactions. The children in Cena shirts would clap for their hero as others would either side with him or boo him. Once his balance was restored, he brought up his hands and clenched them into tight fists as Punk turned and let his eyes widen.

And off they went, throwing wild punches that sent them both reeling and counteracting with another. The crowd hung onto every punch they met with collision and soon John threw Punk into the ropes as planned. He knew what was to come next but he missed his cue and Punk actually nailed him with his signature boots right in between the eyes sending him down hard. His hands came up to check for blood as his vision became blurry and left him blind. Everyone heard the harsh slap except John who was clearly out of it since he could barely hear the extremely loud chants chanting "One more time!" Reluctant to do so, Punk kept going and ran to the turnbuckle standing on the top rope before delivering a careful elbow to the chest.

He then went for a pin that John was able to kick out of and he lay there dropping his head whispering secretly to John in the process. "You okay? You sold the hell out of that kick." John responded in a small nod as Punk got up calling for what was time for the finish "Be ready." John's vision was still out of focus and he stood up before realizing that he forgot what exactly the finish was. Bautista's music hit and the people rose to their feet as Punk and Cena turned to the man running down the ramp and into the ring. Bautista threw Punk out of his way first before delivering a wicked clothesline to a still groggy John. Not being well timed, he barely was able to get out of the way without his head actually being taken off by his arm.

John didn't have much time to catch his breath before being lifted up onto Bautista's shoulders and thrown back to earth with his cranium hitting first with a thunderous thud. His eyelids shut immediately and everything, even the universe, went completely pitch black. Again the music hit, out the ring Bautista was before he looked back to see John staring at him in anger; except, the only thing staring back was John's still lifeless body. He only walked backstage, he was one of many to know that John would change up the script to leave a more dramatical feel to both the fans and wrestlers. Punk rolled back in noticing that the bell rung and John was still selling, probably taking a page out of Randy's overselling book. Or... something was wrong, very wrong.

He put his hands onto his own head to cover up while yelling over to John. "John... John.. get up. Move, do something.. turn a little if you're selling..." John's chest was barely expanding and lowering and he got his answer when he made no movement whatsoever. In a panic, Punk stood up and bent down to get him up; he was actually out cold, this was no rib. All of a sudden, his act was gone and he ran out of the ring grabbing the medical personnel to get in there. Just like that, the crowd went silent as they watched the horror unfold, what if John Cena was dead? They helped one another get him onto a stretcher since they could barely feel his pulse now discovering that it was actually starting to slow.

Into the ambulance he went as the cameras cut off ending the show early after being informed this was seriously bad. They attached tubes and placed something over his mouth to help him breathe as the siren sounded loudly in the backround. The doctor kept taking notes as he looked up at the referee in with him with an expression that showed sorrow. "How... how did this happen?" His voice was low and quiet although the circumstances were anything but. The silence struck as the ambulance rushed down the streets as quickly to the hospital as it could. The referee of the match finally looked up at John with a painful look.

He was good friends with him, then again there wasn't really a guy backstage who weren't great friends with John. He partially blamed himself for not getting in there sooner or cutting off the match the second he got kicked. He then looked to the doctor who was still awaiting a damn answer. He only made him feel guiltier. "He landed wrong."

* * *

His heavy eyelids lifted with all the effort he could manage as a continuing beeping noise filled his ears at the side of him clearly matching his heart rate. The first thing that came into his vision was the clean white ceiling and by then he could tell he was laying down. Blinking, he felt his throat dry as he shifted his cranium to the side making his sight transition to the white wall. Through parted cracked lips, he breathed loudly as he stared at the wall feeling incredibly weak. He turned again, this time a bit more harsher than careful and he let out an agonized groan while his eyes shut closed. There was a sharp pain making his head pound that flowed to his throat only adding to the dryness.

In came a woman through the entrance and smiled upon seeing John awake. She helped by transitioning his bed so he was able to sit up as she then looked into his very tired gray blue eyes. "Look who's finally awake... you gave everyone quite a scare and I'm sure almost heart attacks." Before he could reply, the pain shot again and he squeezed his eyelids closed as his hands gripped the bed sheets tightly. The woman went to his side and helped him drink the glass of water that sat next to him. He obliged and drunk feeling a bit better now that his throat didn't feel like a desert. "Where am I..." The question didn't seem to be directed to anyone since he stared at the space in front of him rather than the woman.

She kept her smile as her hand fell onto his broad shoulder. "You're in the hospital... you probably don't recall hitting your head in the ring, but you're fine now. You've been asleep for two days... your girlfriend is worried and hasn't left since." Ring? Asleep? For how long? Girlfriend? What in the hell was going on

. "And who are you..?" The woman let out a small laugh and patted his shoulder as gently as she possibly could. This act was constant since she always saw patients in denial. She felt so bad for all of them. "I'm your nurse.. you'll be seeing a lot of me.. trust me."

He looked at her with the same dead eyes before she briefly apologetically smiled and walked out of the room off to find an available doctor for diagnosis. She told the woman waiting outside of the room that she could go on in since he finally awoke. Cautiously, he turned towards the entrance as another woman walked in with clothes of casualty instead of the boring nurse dress. His attention went straight to her brown eyes that seemed to be sad to look at, but somehow comforting given the whole confusement situation. After the eyes, his own traveled down to her full lips, then to her chest, then to her legs, and finally to her sneakers. Even though he was struck by beauty instantly at the sight of her, he knew she had been crying since she seemed to duplicate what he felt to be dead eyes.

She came towards him immediately and added some speed to her walk before throwing her arms around his frame completely forgetting about his condition. He didn't have any strength left to push her away or even return her embrace, he just let his arms stay limp as agony started to build. There she stayed for what felt like eternity before pulling away as he finally let out a pained noise. She let out a sniffle and took his hands into hers as she looked into his eyes with hers glassy. "I'm sorry... I just.. I just thought you weren't going to wake up... it was killing me to see you-well you're awake now.. that's all that matters.

" John inhaled the air sharply before releasing the breath for a very tired and heavy sigh. "I-I.. I don't comprehend... I don't understand.. how did I get here... tell me.. please."

His plead hung in the air depressingly and she let a tear drop freely onto his sheets. She'd be sobbing if she wasn't so dried out; she was tired of crying. "You landed wrong, baby, it's okay to be in denial, John—"

He shook his head without caring about the extreme pain flowing in his mind and kept doing so panting. He felt so depressed and angry at once, what the hell was in that water. "No, no, no, no, no, no, I don't know... who is that..."

Her expression creased into worried as she watched the man of her life have a breakdown. She started to try and calm him by gripping his arms while speaking as gently as she could. "John, please.. what's wrong, what don't you know?" He stopped and those dead eyes finally had some color and they were dark. She'd never seen this color... "Who's John..?"

That did it. Her breath caught and she slowly got up from the bed moving close to the door horrified. "You don't know who that is...?" He was too tired to be playing these games. He nodded at her and wanted to throw a tantrum in frustration. "Why should I?"

And that was all it took for her to run down the hallway and find the doctor barely making his way over. She held herself together, but just couldn't get the words out. "Ms. Colace, just spit it out woman." Nicole let her tears flow as she let it out. "John Cena.. Room 213, he doesn't know who he is..."

* * *

The light was flashed into his eye for the fourth time and then the doctor released a breath. His job always got harder since he had to break the news to everyone as subtle as possible. Except this man wasn't no ordinary man, this man was John Cena and was one of the top wrestlers in the WWE that could easily be recognized. How could he break the news to people like Vince McMahon? Or even the family that John looked after. This was probably going to kill them all.

He nodded at John and then to Nicole and they walked out of the room with him facing her. "With all the tests.. I've come to conclusion that he has a rare case of amnesia."

Her heart dropped. "How is it a rare case? I'm sure everyone gets this.."

"A lot of people do suffer from short term memory loss, but this is much higher than that. He has no idea who he is, where he's from, told me nothing of his family, and is extremely frustrated. I checked basic things like walking, breathing, talking, reading, writing, and he seems to know how to do all these things... what I'm trying to break to you is that he knows how to do things, but he has no memory at all of his entire life."

Nicole ran her hands through her hair wanting to scream out. "Will there be a cure...? Can he go to work?"

Here came the toughness... "John is in a very fragile state right now and still has a major head injury so wrestling should be the last thing you should worry about now.. as for when, or if, he'll remember everything, I can't tell you an exact date."

"So... for sure he can't get in the ring yet.. and this may be temporary, or..." Her voice trailed off. There shouldn't of been an "or." She couldn't bare let him never remember... all those memories gone. The doctor saw her distress and looked to the room.

"You can try and help him gain back what he can't remember. It's not certain he'll get everything back at once but bits and pieces should come back. He can go home in a week if you promise to take care of him." She'd do anything. "I will.. and I can't push anything, can I?" He shook his head no. "These kind of things take time. It could be tomorrow, next week, a month from now, maybe even a year, or never. You just have to have patience with him." A smile finally emerged and the doctor walked off feeling a bit good about himself. She them looked into the room to see John sleeping again. She was going to help him to no ends.

He dreamt of a prison with white walls and nobody else but him.


	2. Home?

January 15, 2014... Wednesday.

Chapter 2: Home...?

He reached his hand back and pulled on his seatbelt over his broad chest before clicking it into place; he knew he wasn't totally useless as they were making him out to be. It's been a week after he woke up, and although he had a serious concussion, he was finally going to lay eyes on what "home" was. It was driving him over the edge of insanity to hear about it constantly from the doctor, his nurse, Nicole, and even the janitor who cleaned up his room every night. He was going to miss that janitor for some odd reason. Home seemed to be where all the trouble ended, where he could finally escape his imprisonment. There were so many promises provided with the talk of home.

The doctor told him that he'd be able to walk around more and be able to heal better to rid himself of the agonizingly painful headaches. Those made him wince and wake up from his sleep drowsily oddly a bit thankful that he wouldn't have to go through the rest of his nightmares. The nightmares would involve John alone behind bars while he sat in the corner with his knees drawn up while his head was buried in them. His large arms were encircled around his knees and he thought of nothing, his mind was litterally blank and that's hard to do; no matter how hard anyone tries, humans always think of something. There was a lightbulb in the middle of the room providing a dim and depressing light that looked it was hanging on to it's last run of life. Every now and then it would flicker, and John unnoticingly, would have a dark shadow against the wall that reappeared and disappeared.

As the drift away from reality continued, the room would be horrifyingly quiet, no sound at all. Then there would suddenly be noise, very loud noise coming from outside the entire containment room. It was muffled, the words couldn't be understood but the volume increased as if they were trying to say something important. Not a bit startled, John would look up from his knees around the room before sucking in a breath and standing up to press his ear against the wall. They continued over and over again, he found out there was more than one person yelling the chants, possibly over hundreds maybe. They kept repeating only one word, it sounded familiar but he would become enraged when he couldn't decipher it and they began to die down.

Anger was something common he'd been going through the passed week. Constantly he'd lose his temper over the simplest tasks that were supposed to be tests conducted by the doctor. He felt like a Guinea pig doing everything he said, he just wished that he knew what he was talking about when he said it. He had a short fuse and they kept lighting it until it was burnt out and restored once again ready for fuel. Then there were times they'd talk about him right in front of him like as if he was some sort of child. The doctor would say things slow and try to make him feel better with encouragement words.

What he recalled was hurling his paper cup of water on the floor when the nurse started to talk to him the same; he was an adult and he was to be treated like one. She left it and walked out of the room with a disappointed facial expression that was genuine and right there he knew he hurt her feelings. He constantly got this facial expression, as well as others, from Nicole's visits and she could barely say a word to him that wasn't about his past. He knew he lost it all, but jeez, you don't have to bring it up every second. It would be about how a man named Vince, supposedly his boss, would be granting him the months off to recover before he could step into the ring. John didn't know what the ring was, but he didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know that there's where he got hurt since he heard it twice.

If anything, everyone should be keeping him far away from the ring as possible, not being incredibly melancholy every time he forgets how to pick up a fork. That's what he thought at least, he knew they all meant well, though. The Nurse, the janitor, the doctor, and especially Nicole with her persistent check ups and hope. The nurse was just trying to comfort him as best as she could; the janitor was wise beyond his years with his late night advice. The doctor only cared for his well being. Nicole always told him she loved him before she left and could tell she was disappointed when he couldn't find it in him to tell her back.

In fact, he didn't know what exactly love was... and how the hell was he supposed to tell that to someone he didn't even know? Nicole put a lot of pressure on him, but at least she didn't flash him with cameras asking a lot of questions. That was some people from TMZ, they stopped by a lot asking questions while taking a handful of photos. He didn't know what TMZ was, but Nicole said to welcome it since their boss, Vince, loved the publicity and it would help him in the long run. They were just terribly annoying since they had questions that made absolutely no sense to him. They asked if he lost his memory, does he remember anything, is this fake for the business, ya da ya da ya da.

He didn't know who Vince was, but he was already starting to dislike him from what he was told. Vince wants you to do this, Vince said you can come back at this time, Vince is allowing you time off, Vince blah blah blah blah fucking blah. What it sounded like to John was that Vince owned him and did whatever the hell he wanted. Well Vince could go and fuck himself because he wasn't doing shit for anyone as far as he was concerned. Off topic, home is the basic thing that has been running through his mind all week. Home had a lot of promises that he didn't know what to say to.

Home was supposed to be the road to recovery and rememberance. Somewhere imaginary where he got his own bed and had privacy from everyone since they just walked into his hospital room uninvited. Where he had time to think of everything going on, escape the horrors of what it was. No cameras, no smothering, no tests, just freedom allowing him to be himself and not this John character he heard about but chose to ignore. Home was supposed to be relief and somewhere he could learn. He felt himself go on edge every time they spoke of home.

Lost in thought, the car came to a stop and in front of them was some kind of aircraft looking ready for takeoff. John gulped back in anticipation and stared into nothing through the window as Nicole took her seatbelt off as well as the keys out of the ignition. She turned to him with a puzzled expression before reaching her hand to touch his shoulder; it barely grazed it and he jumped startled free of his trance staring at her now. His eyes showed something she wasn't used to seeing: fear and distrust. She sighed and began to speak.

"I know this is hard... I get it, but we have to go in that plane."

"You think it's the plane I'm worried about? I don't even know you and I'm supposed to believe that we're goin' 'home'?"

Abruptly, she placed her hand onto his thigh and he pushed it off a bit harsh. "Look, I get that you're tryin' to help me, but I need my space... no touchy stuff.." Nicole nodded and got out of the vehicle hurt. She felt like she had gotten shot. John realized and stepped out as well.

His size compared to her showed as he towered over her. "... I'm sorry... I-I, I just need time... can you please just give me that?" Although her heart was burning, she nodded. She needed to give him space. It would be the only way to ensure that he was going to somehow remember. She just needed to get him onto that plane. "I'll give you time... I promise. No touchy stuff unless you're okay with it." They were at a compromise.

* * *

"Do I have to?" John mumbled lowly under his breath as he covered his head with a pillow. Nicole sighed frustrated before attempting to take away the pillow. His strength caused her to let go defeated and sit back with her arms crossed. "John! Our friends are downstairs and they want to see you. Some of them had to even travel from far." He grunted and tossed the pillow away onto the floor. John stood up in front of where she sat and placed both his hands to grip the mattress at the sides of her thighs. She had to admit she was sort of turned on by his rough side she never actually got to see.

He didn't realize how powerful he was over her. "Tell them they can't see me." Well ain't that ironic. She pushed away the pun and cringed at the sound of his stern tone. He noticed it right away. He pushed off and sighed. "Alright... I'm goin', but I ain't changin'." A pair of basketball shorts and a white T-shirt is what he wore.

Her brown eyes rolled since she sported a blue dress. It was the only way to get him downstairs though because somehow he didn't forget how to be incredibly stubborn. Nicole got up and grabbed his hand rushing him out the door and down the stairs. The people yelled and clapped scaring the living hell out of John. Before he could bolt back to his room, Nicole tightened her grip on his hand leading him over to the people. Her sister, Brianna, hugged her having not of seen her since the accident. John blinked, he was seeing double?

They didn't look exactly alike, but damn they looked alike. His head turned as a couple of guys were walking up to him. They introduced themselves and overwhelmed him with memories they shared. They trailed off and he left them talking to get away. Again he was approached by another guy. "Hey, man.. you alright there?" He shook his head no and the other guy patted his shoulder.

John seemed to recognize the guy all of a sudden... "So, who are you?" He laughed and understood right away that it wouldn't be good to reminisce. "Randy Orton. Pretty sure your best friend. Other than that, it's nothing." John smiled a bit and they talked. It was odd since they had not even brought up the past once. Soon the people were gone and John took residence in the guest house to enforce his rule against Nicole's affection. He awoke in the morning striding into the house's kitchen.

There was a note on the fridge. 'John, I had to go do a last minute work thing. Stay out of trouble, I'll be home hopefully in the morning. - Love, Nicole.' He shrugged broad shoulders and walked outside. The crisp morning air blended into his shirt taking a hold of him. He needed to do something at least. He started down the sidewalk unknowing of the hell about to come.

I apologize for the lame chapter, but I originally wrote this story a while back and deleted it because I thought I'd never return to this. So, I'm going completely off of memory and obviously missing important details. Don't worry, I need to get back into my groove and I'm sure the next chapters will be great. Patience is a virtue!


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